


The Flash: The 31st Hunger Games

by MoonlightSalsa



Series: The Victor With 23 Faces [6]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Western-Themed, first person POV, gunfights, mentoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29672760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonlightSalsa/pseuds/MoonlightSalsa
Summary: "If someone shows you their true colours, believe them."
Series: The Victor With 23 Faces [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1692511
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

I only sent in the camera so she could stop bugging everyone about it. 

I don't even know why she wants it so bad. I understand that photography is her passion, but there's not a whole lot to photograph in this arena. Just some old sandy buildings and like, a _lot_ of cacti. 

But Leto’s snapping away like there's no tomorrow, a big grin on her face. Well, as long as she's happy, I guess. 

It's day four of the Games, and the Career pack has already split. Leto was the unwitting cause of it. Half the pack found her irritating and wanted her gone, and the other half defended her. Things came to blows. The Four boy is dead. The Ones split. It's just Leto, her district partner Hades, and Amalie, the girl from Four. 

They're pretty cozy right now. They've been holed up in the saloon for a while now, and they're doing well for food and water. Leto found a cowboy hat and a lasso, both of which she immediately put on and refuses to give up. I have a feeling that she's going to try and lasso someone before these games are over. 

Much like the Careers, the other Two mentors have mixed feelings about Leto. Magnus and Ludo think she's irritating. Garland and Torrent think she's a riot. Medea doesn't really feel anything for her either way. 

I just want her to come home. 

I can feel the all-too familiar sensation of dread and worry bubbling up in my throat. I dislike mentoring for this very reason, but I keep coming back, year after year. I don't mean any offense to the others, but most of them aren't the greatest mentors. Garland and Torrent are more interested in having fun than being serious about this. Magnus and Ludo are getting old and are starting to just not care as much about anything anymore. 

Medea is fine, though. She's been diligently monitoring Hades for hours. She has a routine for breaks so that she doesn't get too exhausted. Maybe I should do the same. I haven't slept in three days and I can't remember the last time I ate anything that wasn't loaded with sugar and caffeine. But I can't leave. Leto has kept me up with constant worry ever since she was put in the arena. Since she can't be bothered to watch her own back, I have to do it for her. 

I reach across my desk for the pot of coffee that’s always there, but Medea grabs onto my wrist before I can get it. 

“You look like you haven't slept in twenty years,” she says, her eyes dark with shadows in the bright light. 

I resist the urge to yawn. “It's only been three days.” 

Medea’s mouth forms a hard line. “Go to bed, Hermes.” 

I blink at her. “I'm not abandoning Leto. She needs me.” 

“Not as bad as you need sleep.” She gives my wrist a gentle squeeze. “Don't worry. I'll keep an eye on her for you. I'll wake you up if something happens.” 

I nod and silently trudge out of the mentoring room. I go back to the floor I'm staying on and pass out as soon as my head hits the pillow. 

~*~ 

Before I know it, I'm being shaken awake. It's Medea. She's trying to talk to me, but her voice is unintelligible in the fog in my brain. Eventually, the fuzziness dissipates and I can make out what she's saying. 

“Hermes, come quick! It's Leto!” 

I jump out of bed and race towards the mentoring room. I arrive just in time to catch the first gunshot. 

Yes, these Games have guns. Pistols, to be exact. And the Ones have just stormed the saloon carrying one in each hand. 

Leto has thrown herself behind the bar as a bottle explodes above her head. Hades and Amalie are readying their own pistols from behind an upturned table each. 

The four gunslingers return fire back and forth. The shots are so loud that I can hear my own ears ringing. The saloon fills with smoke. The Ones are dodging back and forth, this way and that. 

The girl jumps behind a booth. The boy presses his back against the bar. I hold my breath, knowing that Leto, the only one without a gun, is on the other side. 

But right when it seems that blood is about to be spilt, everyone aims, fires, and… nothing. Just empty clicks. 

“Fuck!” The One boy spits out. He jams a hand into his pocket, pulls out a handful of shells and tries to reload, keeping his eye on Hades and Amalie all the while. His district partner does the same. Hades and Amalie follow along sheepishly. 

In the few still moments that follow, Leto strikes. 

She suddenly pops up, jumping up onto the bar, grabbing a barstool and clocking the One boy over the head with it. He goes down immediately, but Leto’s not done yet. 

Right as she lifts the stool above her head for round two, something changes. For the briefest of seconds, there is a flash in her eye. That little flash, combined with her wide, excited grin, turns her into a monster. That flash… it was glee. Smug glee. The playful tribute I'm mentoring has been replaced with, well, whatever she is now. 

But then the moment passes and Leto is just plain old Leto again. Silly, joyful Leto, who is smashing a kid’s head in with a barstool. 

His cannon fires and I hear Kingston yell from halfway across the room. I ignore him. 

The One girl shrieks with rage and aims her half-loaded pistol directly at Leto’s heart. She fires and I can't stop the cry that comes out of my mouth. 

But then Leto lifts up the stool and the bullet thuds right into it. I gasp in relief. Medea grips my arm as I feel myself begin to sway a little. 

The One girl fires again and this time Leto ducks. The bullet ricochets off the counter and strikes Hades in the neck. 

Then Amalie squeezes the trigger on her pistol and the One girl falls down, blood pouring from the hole in her forehead. 

It's over. 

As Leto bumps fists with Amalie, I try to comfort Medea and Wonder, who had just lost their tributes. 

“Ah well,” Wonder says calmly, “Diamond did her best. That's all I can really ask for.” 

“I'm proud of Hades,” Medea responds. “He did his best too.” 

“And at least they gave everyone a great show.” 

“I think Leto might be the real star of the show,” Medea gestures at the screen, where Leto is now trying to do a backflip off the countertop. 

“She's… spirited, that girl.” Wonder agrees. He gathered his stuff and stands up. “Well, I'll catch you later. Happy mentoring.” He leaves. 

Medea smiles and gently squeezes my shoulder reassuringly. “You go back to bed. You need your rest. I'll watch Leto again. She'll be fine.” 

But when I get back to bed, I can't fall back asleep. It's not just because of the adrenaline rush I'd just had, but I can't stop thinking about that look in her eyes before she killed the One boy. 

It really threw me off. And now I'm not sure how to feel about her. The Leto I just saw was so different from the Leto I'd gotten to know. 

Was I supposed to be afraid?


	2. Chapter 2

I feel like my soul is rapidly being torn in half. Ideals on both sides tugging at me, pulling at me, relentless in their quest to have a whole me. And the rebellious side is winning. 

No one can see the struggle I’m going through. All they know is that I, Lyme Amalie Lachlan, am competing in the Fifty-Second Hunger Games in an effort to out-do my mother. 

They also can’t tell that my heart’s just not in it anymore. Well, I hope that they can’t tell. If they could, there’d be trouble. 

I’m stuck guarding the cornucopia while the others get to go do all the dirty work. I wouldn’t have it any other way, even though it’s wet and rainy and cold where I am. But whatever. I’d rather be soaked to the bone than have more blood on my hands. 

This is what they don’t tell you about the Hunger Games: it’s absolutely soul-sucking to kill people. To end someone’s entire existence - their entire _being_ \- just so that I can have the chance to make it out of here alive. It’s terrible. Swinging a sword at a living, breathing human being is a far cry from swinging a sword at a training dummy that can’t even comprehend what’s happening. 

If I’d known that this is what it would be like, I would have preferred to step off my pedestal a second too early. 

But alas, I didn’t do that, and now I’m obligated to see this through to the bitter end. 

This arena, a half-sunken city, is the exact opposite of my mother’s. I’m willing to bet that I’m feeling the exact opposite of what she did, too. 

We’d always been opposites, my mother and I. She’s the loud, playful, boisterous one. I’m the quiet, responsible, reserved one. Her bedroom is a constant explosion of unwashed clothes and old food wrappers. Mine is neat and square. She makes friends easily. I don’t. 

She was able to win her Games with a constant smile on her face. I haven’t smiled once since I got here. 

Everyone’s expecting a show from me. Mom gave them a good one. I have massive boots to fill. It’s quite hard to top not just a gunfight, but also banging through the saloon doors, screaming “WHERE YA GOIN’, PARTNER?” and successfully lassoing her final opponent in one try. 

I just… can’t. I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to be here. I just wanna go home, back to my neat bedroom and pretend that none of this ever happened, that it was all just a nightmare. 

But I’m too far in to back out now. 

When Mom signed me up for training at the Academy, she told me that when - not if, _when_ \- I entered the Games, it would be the most amazing experience of my life. I would get to learn all sorts of cool fighting techniques, how to use all those awesome weapons. In the arena, I would bring the utmost glory for my district. I would have achieved one of the highest honours ever: being a Victor. And when I emerged victorious, every person in the entire country would know my name. I would be showered with riches. I would get to have _my own house._

It would be the raddest thing ever. 

She didn’t technically lie to me, because she was so convinced of it herself. 

I should have seen the first red flag when I asked the other Two Victors what being in the Games was like. 

Matty used to babysit me sometimes as a kid, so naturally she was the first one I asked. Her response was, “It was fine, I guess.” I never thought to ask any follow-up questions. 

Garland and Torrent shared my mother’s sentiments. Magnus and Ludo just snapped at me to stop bothering them and to also get off their lawn because I was trampling their grass. Medea gave a very polite, but minimalistic answer. Hermes got this haunted look in his eye, but he was smiling so wide that I foolishly looked past it. And Brutus told me that it would change me. 

He didn’t specify whether the change would be good or bad, but I guess he was still technically right. 

I can kiss the Lyme I used to be goodbye. 

I’m not entirely sad to see her go. The old Lyme was idiotic enough to believe that killing people would be fun. 

I’m interrupted from my thoughts by a shrill scream emanating from one of the nearby buildings. It’s so chilling; injected with so much fear that I feel like I’m the one who's afraid. 

A cannon quickly follows and I can only hope that whoever screamed at least had a quick death. 

I stare in the direction of the building. My conscience tries to continue its war on itself, but it’s pretty clear who’s won. 

Loyalist vs Rebel? Well, the loyalist in me died along with that scream; the scream that represents everything wrong with the Games. 

There is only a rebel. 

A rebel who will find a cause.


End file.
